


67. Question

by howelleheir



Series: DS9 100 Theme Challenge [9]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Developing Relationship, Drabble and a Half, Intimacy, Languages and Linguistics, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-13
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-10-27 09:26:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17764169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/howelleheir/pseuds/howelleheir
Summary: Dukat makes a personal request.





	67. Question

**Author's Note:**

> Eh, idk about this one, but it came out of me, so here it is.

Dukat had _almost_ asked a hundred times, and each time, he talked himself down, second guessed himself, made excuses, found a way out of it. After all, it was a risk — to make such a deeply personal request would imply that Weyoun was more to him than political advisor and casual lover. That he most certainly _was_ was beside the point; if there were any discrepancy at all between their affections, the offer could be humiliating.

But one night, after a particularly... _intense_ encounter, when Weyoun was curled into the crook of his arm, he could no longer keep the request to himself. Their translators put on standby, that lovely, low voice had overpowered his better judgment, and he couldn't resist the urge to hear his name, unaltered, in Weyoun's gorgeous, lilting accent.

So, planting a kiss into his hair near the top of his ear, he asked.

“Would you like to call me by my given name?”

Weyoun was silent for a long moment, as if considering the proposal. Surely he knew what it meant for a Cardassian to offer up that level of familiarity.

Then, all at once, as if he'd been holding it back, he _laughed._

“No!” he blurted.

Dukat's jaw tightened as he untangled himself from Weyoun and sat upright, cheeks going dark. This was exactly the disaster he'd envisioned all the times he'd let the question go unasked. The _worst_ possible outcome.

Apparently seeing his embarrassment, Weyoun placed a conciliatory hand on his thigh. “It's not that I don't _want_ to,” he said, his tone apologetic. “I _can't.”_

Dukat turned, his curiosity stoked. “Can't?”

A somewhat abashed expression crossing his face, Weyoun reached to the nightstand to retrieve a PADD. On its screen, he tapped out a few glyphs.

“This sound,” he said, turning the PADD and indicating the Kardasi letters he'd typed — S K R — “we don't have it. I can't say it.”

Dukat snorted incredulously. “Try,” he said.

“Absolutely not,” Weyoun said.

“Go on.”

Weyoun sucked in his cheeks somewhat petulantly, then muttered something that may have been an attempt at _Skrain,_ but which had about four too many syllables. Dukat tried to stifle a laugh, but it was too late — Weyoun's keen ears had picked it up.

“I'll remind you,” he said sharply, “that I speak a hundred and twelve languages _fluently,_ and that I'm at least conversational in all the major dialects of every single world I've been assigned t—”

He cut him off with a slow kiss. The violet flush that had crept into his cheeks, his flustered tone, all the signs that Dukat had — for the moment — regained the upper hand, had simply been too much to resist.

This, he decided — their current, nameless arrangement — was preferable to any trivial token of intimacy.


End file.
